Spinning Wheels

What goes up must come down
Spinning wheel got to go round
Talking about your troubles it's a crying sin
Ride a painted pony
Let the spinning wheel spin

Blood Sweat & Tears (1969)

I decided once again I’ve got something to say (it happens every so often between waves of overwhelm, apathy & inadequacy)

The wheels started turning when I heard one of the “Westshore” mayors (on a local radio station) suggesting that Greater Victoria’s representation of commuter congestion known as the “Colwood Crawl” no longer carry the moniker of his municipality (oops there’s goes the anonymity) and from this point forward be known simply as “the Crawl”. Now I suppose to be fair – the good people of Colwood are not entirely responsible for the snails pace at which traffic flows during the morning and evening commutes. Coincidentally the radio station that carried this story quips “that anyone that says the enjoyment lies in the journey hasn’t driven the Malahat on a Friday afternoon”. I began to connect the dots and reasoned, of course a radio station that dismisses a regional environmental and traffic issue so lightly would give air time to a politician that wishes to distance his municipality from the growing problem that is being created by his municipality along with his colleagues in the neighboring municipalities and their collective hyper-pro development policies and insatiable appetite for increasing tax base. So as I listen between the lines I hear – the acknowledgement that the congestion is a recognizable problem – but rather than offer any hope of relief or initiate a conversation on solutions or responsibility and rethinking an elected official opts to suggest renaming it.

Wasn’t there a joke about rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic?
The second element that became the catalyst for an end to my silence was brought about by a move to simplify my life I started going through a cd collection with the idea of reducing the clutter in my living space (and generate a little additional cash for a trip I’m taking). Just so you know – though I have a car I walked into town carrying two bags full (approximately 100 cd’s) into town both to reduce the use of my car and to get a more immediate sense of what a burden to me personally this “stuff” really is. I stopped for a noon hour meditation at a local Buddhist meditation centre (yes with the vestiges of over consumption that represents an ongoing quest to rid my life of addiction. (I will be the first to admit my wake-up is slow and of the incremental variety-but – I was told progress not perfection – so don’t I get some points for reducing my attachment?)

Anyway between two retail outlets that deal in used cd’s I only manage to get rid of about half of them (for a very small fraction of what they cost originally – which I expected but I didn’t bargain on them not wanting all or most of this stuff) – so I end up giving it away to a Thrift shop.

So now to go full circle and integrate the Blood, Sweat and Tears lyric (come to think of it the name of the band is relevant to my point too) – I have been riding that “painted pony” for so long now the paint has completely faded and my butt has become the saddlebags. Around and around – get in the car – go to work – collect the cheque – buy more crap – which goes on to consume me: my time, my space, my energy, my soul (yes I’m aware I mentioned attending a Buddhist meditation session and now I reference a soul – what can I say I’m a potpourri of contradictions) then to cap it all off – the stuff is arbitrarily declared obsolete which begs the question – why did I bother getting this stuff in the first place? Not to mention all the other ethical questions – packaging, shipping, minimum wages, resource exploitation, (okay enough I hope to sleep tonight).

I must find my way off this “spinning wheel” of consumption/redundancy. Does my admission of consumerism make me a hypocrite – maybe but better to wake up late than not at all?

Apparently I’m not entirely recovered – I found an awesome little hand drum in the Thrift store – which may come in handy as I adopt the sentiments of another song “I Don’t Want to Work – Just Want To Bang on the Drum All Day!”